It was a quiet night on Privet Drive, much to the disappointment of Petunia Dursley. Nothing had happened in weeks. Which, in some ways, was good. As much as she enjoyed finding dirt on her neighbors, one of her greatest fears was that her neighbors would discover her secret. It had been for over five years now, ever since the boy had started attending that, that school.
But did he care about the risks they took? That they would be social outcast if anyone found out what he was? Was he grateful at all? No. He was always so sullen, so rude – talking back and eating their food. He'd even stopped doing his chores.
At least this year he didn't bother them with his presence at meals. Her Duddykins was so nervous around him, especially after he was attacked because of the boy last summer – it wasn't good for him. Maybe if the boy ate in his room... No. She pursed her lips. . She pursed her lips. I won't wait on him. She decided. He can just keep eating after us in the kitchen.
There was movement outside. As Petunia watched, her mouth getting tighter by the second, a large gray owl flew towards the house. It quickly flew out of her view, but she knew that it hadn't just flown over the house. The letter attached to it meant that it had flown into the house, through the window of Dudley's second bedroom where the boy stayed. Glancing through the window at the other houses to make sure that no one had seen, she headed to the kitchen to make Dudders a bedtime snack.
Upstairs, a teenage boy with messy black hair untied the letter attached to the owl's leg and gave it some water. Though he didn't look it, this 15 year-old boy was someone extraordinary. He was a wizard. And not just any wizard. Harry Potter was a famous wizard.
There were two things everyone immediately noticed about him. If they didn't know who he was, it was his penetrating emerald eyes. They seemed to radiate emotions to such a degree that you couldn't help feel with him. But there was a coldness to them that you wouldn't expect in one so young. They told you that he had been through too much for a child – that he was a warrior with the physical and emotional scars that go with such experiences. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
However, if they knew who he was, and his place in the wizarding world, they understood his veteran eyes – once they noticed them. Because the first thing they look for was the odd, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. It was due to this scar that he was famous. He had received it as a baby, when the Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord who had been trying to conquer wizarding England, had tried to kill him after having killed his parents. Somehow, the killing curse sent at him was deflected and sent back to Voldemort, destroying his body. No one knew exactly what had happened or how, and it was this that made Harry, the "Boy-Who-Lived", famous.
Of course, Voldemort was back now. He had been for over a year. Harry sighed as the tawny owl took off out into the darkness. It had been a week since his return to Privet Drive, but it seemed much longer. He didn't know how he was going to survive until Dumbledore said that it was safe for him to leave. Of course, Dumbledore wasn't always right, was he? He certainly hadn't been last year, having Snape tutor him. Maybe if he'd had a teacher who actually taught, then he wouldn't have been tricked into going to the Ministry by Voldemort and Sirius ...
No. Don't go there. Harry shook his head. He wasn't ready to contemplate Sirius's death and his part in it. Nor was he yet able to think about the discussion with Dumbledore afterwards. But no matter what he did, flashes of that night swept through his mind. "...and one must die at the hand of the other..." Kill or be killed.
Once again he tried to physically clear his mind and glanced down at the unopened letter he still held. The seal on it look familiar but he couldn't remember from where. It turned out to be from Gringotts. No wonder I didn't recognize it. Haven't been there in a while.
Dear Mr. Potter,As you have no doubt read in the news, recent testimony given by the Death Eaters captured at the Ministry has cleared Sirius Black.
Harry had known. Reading the clippings sent to him by Remus had made him feel a little better, but he wished that it had happened sooner, so that Sirius could have enjoyed the freedom he'd deserved.
Due to this unexpected news, and the confirmation of Mr. Black's demise in the Department of Mysteries by the Unspeakables,
At this, Harry's heart clenched. He had hoped that there was a chance...
it is our duty to carry out his last wishes, as stated in the will delivered to us by an anonymous person. Except for certain sums and objects, which have been distributed accordingly, Mr. Black has left everything to you.
"What?!" Harry gasped.
We would like to meet with you as soon as it is conveniently possible to discuss your inheritance and carry out the rest of Mr. Black's instructions. We look forward to seeing you soon.
Sincerely,
Alex S. Patterson
Accounts Manager
Gringotts Bank
Wow. Harry had to sit down to deal with the wave of emotions that hit him as he began to actually process the letter. Sirius had left him nearly everything. And he was really gone. This made it official. If the Unspeakables said that he was dead, then he must have died. He'd hoped, somewhere inside of him, that the curse Bellatrix had hit Sirius with wasn't fatal and that he was still alive, but hurt, on the other side of the veil.
But as he re-read the letter, his sorrow turned to bewilderment and curiosity. "the rest of Mr. Black's instructions." There must be something odd about what Sirius wants done. I wonder what the problem is. He'd have to talk to Tonks tomorrow morning about arranging to meet with this Mr. Patterson.
